Girl Divided

by Willow Rose

  Jetta screamed and ducked down, the car driving off the road into the grass, the truck right behind them. They bumped across the field of grass as tall as the car and soon came to a halt.

  Jetta looked up and soldiers, pointing their guns at them from all sides, soon surrounded the car.

  "Get out!"

  Jetta held her hands above her head and looked up to show them she wasn't armed. Defeated, she grabbed the door handle and was about to open the door, when suddenly something happened outside.

  There was more loud yelling, then multiple shots were fired. Jetta screamed again, ducked down beneath the wheel, hands covering her head while the yelling intensified, and more shots were fired. One soldier fell on the top of the car right next to her, blood gushing on the window.

  Jetta shrieked when another shot was fired, and she felt the excruciating pain shoot through her neck.

  "Jetta!" Tyler cried.

  The door was opened, and she was pulled outside. With one hand, she managed to hold onto the hoodie to cover her face. Looking out, she realized she was looking at an entire army of blacks. She covered her white side up and, as she was put down on the ground, she looked into the face of a black soldier. He was wearing a black uniform, a black headband, and a red band around his arm, carrying the symbol of Black Liberty, a black clenched fist. Jetta remembered having seen the symbol before at the ghetto where people would draw it on the walls, to the frustration of the white soldiers.

  "We need a medic!" he yelled. "This one has been shot."

  Chapter 48

  Jetta was put on a stretcher and in the back of an old beat-up van, then rushed off. She had no idea what happened to Tyler and Shango. The pain in her neck was bad, but as they drove off, she slowly felt better.

  When they finally stopped and opened the back, paramedics rushing inside to get her out, Jetta was sitting up.

  She was carried outside and taken to a temporary hospital. It was set up in an old building with only half of a roof above it. Inside were hundreds of people lying on mattresses on the floor or in old beds, all packed closely together in the same room. Several were missing an eye. Others had half of their faces destroyed. Some had lost an arm, others both their legs. The smell of rain lingered heavily in her nostrils.

  A nurse came to Jetta.

  "They say you were shot. Can you show me? "

  Jetta looked at her. She reached to the back of her neck and felt where the bullet had gone in. Her shirt was soaked in blood, but she could no longer feel the gunshot wound. She blinked a few times, then looked at the woman.

  "I don't have all day, sweetheart. People are coming in from all sides today. Where are you hurt?"

  Jetta bent down her head inside the hoodie, then lifted it up. Nothing. No pain at all. She smiled, looking at the woman with her black side.

  "I think I’m okay now," she said.

  The nurse looked at her seriously. "Are you sure? You don't want me to look at it real quick? There's a lot of blood on that shirt of yours."

  Jetta shook her head. "No. I'm good. I'm fine."

  The black nurse smiled, showing a white set of teeth. "You know what? Suit yourself. For all I care, that's just one less to take care of. Now, get on out of here. You're taking up space for the really sick."

  Jetta got up and walked away. She found a toilet in the back and went inside. She closed the door. There was no roof on it, but it worked, and she could take off her hoodie and look at herself in the broken mirror. To her surprise, there wasn't even a scratch on the skin of her neck. She reached back there and touched it, figuring she had been very lucky since the nurse would definitely have seen her white side if she had to examine her, and then what would they do? Kill her? It was possible.

  She remembered still how the family had reacted at the ghetto when they realized Jetta had a white side. She didn't dare risk angering anyone like that again. She was now in black territory and she had a feeling it was just as dangerous for them to discover her real self as it was on the white side.

  She put the hoodie back on and walked outside the building, where more hurt people were still being carried inside. Some were screaming in pain, others were eerily quiet.

  "You're better?"

  Jetta looked up and spotted Tyler. He was smiling.

  "Yes," she said. "Apparently, it missed."

  Tyler's expression changed. "But…I saw the bullet hit you. I saw the blood. Your shirt is still soaked from it." He touched the back of her hoodie. She pulled away.

  "It was just a scratch. Nothing much."

  "Wow. I can't believe it. Guess you were really lucky then. I thought I had lost you for sure. I mean, it was right in your neck!"

  "You're up!"

  The voice was Shango's. He was strolling towards her, bottle in his hand, arms stretched out.

  "Fancy a sip?"

  He held out the bottle to her and Jetta looked at it. She shook her head. He tried Tyler, but he shook his head too. Shango shrugged.

  "Suit yourselves. More for me, then."

  "I talked to the soldiers. They can take us to Chicago," Tyler said. "I think that's where my brother is."

  "That sounds awesome," Jetta said.

  "Chicago?" Shango said. "Don't think I’ve ever been there."

  Jetta looked at him, slightly annoyed. Was he going to go with them? Would they never get rid of him?

  "They're leaving soon. I told them I wouldn't go without you, but here you are," Tyler said.

  "I'll go," she said.

  "Great," Tyler said excitedly. He clapped his hands together childishly.

  "What are we waiting for?" Shango said, belching. "Let's go."

  Chapter 49

  The drive took more than twelve hours. Jetta and Tyler both slept most of the way, lying in the back of the military truck. Shango, on the other hand, was awake all the time, and when Jetta woke up as they approached the city walls of Chicago, she saw him. He was staring at the stars above them. Jetta pulled herself up next to him and looked out at the landscape rushing by them, when she suddenly spotted the antelope from her dreams between the trees, running next to them.

  "That's odd," she said.

  "What's odd?" Shango said, sounding cheerful. "I like odd."

  Jetta chuckled. "I bet you do. I was talking about the antelope. Over there, look. It's running like it's following us. Don't antelope usually belong on the African Savanna?"

  Shango chuckled again. "Not this one. And, no. It's not following us. It's going ahead of us."

  "What's the difference?"

  Shango didn't answer. He looked up at the stars. Jetta spotted the massive gray wall surrounding what she could only assume had to be Chicago. The wall was taller than any skyscraper she had ever seen, and it went on as far as her eye could see.

  "In there, the blacks are in charge," Tyler said, sitting up and stretching. "Finally, a place we can walk freely without having to hide anything."

  Jetta looked up at him and their eyes met.

  "Sorry," he said. "I forgot. You hide it so well."

  "It's okay," Jetta said.

  They approached the gates and the soldiers walked out and spoke to the guards. The guards then came around and looked at all of them, peeking inside Jetta's hoodie, but seeing nothing but her brown eye staring back at them.

  They opened the gates. The sun was starting to rise as they were taken to a military camp inside of town. It was swarming with black soldiers in their black uniforms coming in and out of the big tents.

  Tyler helped Jetta get down from the truck and Shango followed them, falling a little behind, greeting anyone he met, giving them fist bumps or saluting them with a grin or finger-shooting them.

  "Someone wants to meet you," the same soldier that had taken Jetta out of the pick-up truck right after she was shot, said.

  "Who?" Tyler asked.

  The soldier smiled. "The Hunter."

  Tyler lifted an eyebrow. "The Hunter?"

  "It's what we call him. Be
cause he's hunting the white devil."

  "Ah. I see," Tyler said.

  He glanced at Jetta, who pulled further inside her hoodie and didn't say anything. Shango was laughing behind her while talking to some other soldier, offering him some of his rum.

  "He's waiting for you at the mayor's office. Come, I'll take you there," the first soldier said.

  Jetta felt sweat trickle on her forehead at the thought of meeting the black army's leader. What if he saw her? What if someone else saw her face? What would they do to her? She knew what the whites did to the blacks, but what did the blacks do to the whites? Would they hurt Tyler for bringing her with him?

  Behind her, Shango was whistling. She walked ahead, ignoring him, and as they turned a corner, she spotted Nanna. She was standing on the other side of the road. Kevin was next to her, holding her hand, Mr. Richards on the other side. They were smiling and waving, but no one else seemed to see them.

  Chapter 50

  The old building housing the Chicago Mayor's Office on LaSalle Drive had been severely bombed during the takeover of the city. Still, some parts of it were left intact, at least enough for Black Liberty's armed forces to set up headquarters there.

  Tyler walked the stairs leading up. At the top of them, he saw a poster on the wall proclaiming a new campaign for One Chicago by a former mayor. It was letting the citizens know that Chicago was a city of immigrants, that their diversity was the city's strength and what made the town great. It was a welcoming city to all, it said in ripped letters.

  Two soldiers opened the door to the office and they walked inside. A big man was standing at an old desk, bent over a map, discussing with two other men who looked like they were higher ranked than the other fighters that Tyler had seen.

  Tyler recognized the man right away and felt a lump in his throat.

  "DeShawn?"

  Tyler could hardly breathe as he said the name. DeShawn was bigger than when he had last seen him, a lot bigger, but it was definitely him.

  DeShawn turned and grinned, revealing a scar above his lip from back when Tyler had crashed his bike into his and DeShawn had landed on the asphalt, face first.

  DeShawn threw out his arms.

  "Baby brother!"

  "Is it really you?" Tyler asked, baffled. "How…?"

  DeShawn laughed and embraced his baby brother, lifting him up in his strong arms. They hugged for a long time before DeShawn grabbed his face between his hands. "Let me look at you, ha-ha. You still look the same; you still have that baby face."

  Tyler pulled away, annoyed the way a younger brother gets when his big brother calls him a baby.

  "I do not."

  "Sure, you do, pretty boy." DeShawn laughed. "They told me they had found you. I could hardly believe them. I’ve been looking for you, brother. What did they do to you? Did they put you in one of 'em ghettos? That's what I figured they'd do. Where's mama?"

  Tyler sighed intensely. "She didn't make it."

  DeShawn got serious. "Well…I can't say I am surprised. I had kind of figured that I had lost the both of you by now. When I heard about the fire…I was certain I had lost you. But ha-ha, here you are. I can't believe it. This calls for a celebration." DeShawn grabbed Tyler by the neck.

  "Celebration?" Shango said.

  DeShawn turned and looked at him. "Now, who's this fool?"

  "His name is Shango."

  "What kind of a name is that?"

  Tyler looked at his brother. "He saved my life. Got me out of the ghetto just in time. Without him, I wouldn't be here."

  "Why didn't you say that right away?" DeShawn said, and patted Shango on the back. "You save my brother's life, you become my brother. Welcome, brother."

  "Thanks," Shango said, obviously satisfied with his new status.

  "Who's the girl?" DeShawn said and nodded at Jetta.

  Tyler stared at her, heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't let DeShawn get too close to her. Jetta pulled back inside her hoodie, the way she always did when scared someone might pull it off her.

  "That's Jetta," Tyler said. "She's a little shy."

  DeShawn waved, "All right, Jetta, cool name by the way." DeShawn winked at her, used his finger as a gun, and pretended to shoot her with a click of his tongue.

  "Welcome to the black city. This is where we rule. You're free here. No more ghetto. No more whites to oppress you."

  He laughed loudly, grabbing Tyler's neck, hard. He had gotten a lot stronger than when Tyler saw him last. "I can't believe it. My brother is here. Who would have thought?"

  Chapter 51

  They were served a big dinner that same night at the mayor's office. Tyler ate like he had never eaten before. Big steaks. Baked potatoes, corn, and gravy. His older brother kept tapping him on the back and laughing. Shango dug in and ate, laughing and drinking like he had known all of them all his life. Tyler had grown to like the old drunk. If nothing else, the man's always-cheerful mood had a strange way of infecting the people around him. Soon, the soldiers were singing with him while he drummed. Singing soon turned to dancing.

  DeShawn pulled Tyler aside and let the rest of them dance. As he followed his brother into his private office, Tyler spotted Jetta at the table. Her one eye followed him and he smiled cautiously at her. She smiled back, just as watchfully. Even though this was what Tyler had dreamt of, to get to the black-controlled areas, he still didn't feel completely safe here. He didn't know why.

  In DeShawn's office, he offered Tyler a cigar. They smoked them in silence, DeShawn's eyes scrutinizing him as he did. DeShawn leaned forward, the cigar held between his folded hands.

  "I want you to join me," he said. "Us. I want you to join the fight."

  Tyler sat up straight. "Me?"

  "Yes, you, who else?"

  DeShawn blew out smoke. "Together, my brother, together, we can change the world."

  "What do you mean?"

  DeShawn walked to the window. It was one of the few that were still intact in the building. DeShawn smoked and looked outside where the darkness had set over the town.

  "It took us two years to get this town," he said. "Two years of fighting. Many lives lost, so many, too many. But now it is ours. We have taken a big chunk of the Northwest corner of the country. There is still a big chunk of no-man's land left to conquer."

  Tyler nodded and smoked his cigar. It made him feel lightheaded.

  "Don't you want to be a part of that?" DeShawn asked, sounding passionate. Tyler had never seen his brother excited like this before.

  "Part of what, exactly?"

  DeShawn chuckled. He smoked and pointed at Tyler with the cigar, smoke slowly seeping from his mouth. "The way I see it, this is what happened, all right? The perception of blacks has always been that we the thieves, we the criminals, we the bad guys, all right? It's always been that, being black, you're automatically evil." DeShawn walked to Tyler, then pushed his shoulder, and kept pushing it while continuing:

  "It's like if I shove you every day, just keep shoving you. I shove you and I shove you, then one of these days you'll shove me back, right?"

  "I guess so."

  "Well, I got sick of being pushed and shoved around. The way I see it, we are the ones that are superior. Us, the blacks, are. Now we here, we are the superior. We believe the black man is better than the white man, or any other races for that matter. I mean, look at us, brother. Look at the two of us. Black is the only natural color, now ain't it? If you really think about it. Humans originated in Africa, so any skin tone lighter than ours is an aberration. We have better muscle tone, bigger brains, we are stronger and faster, man. We should have ruled the country many years ago. Now that we have finally come together, we can create what should have been rightfully ours hundreds of years ago, man."

  "What are you talking about?" Tyler asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

  DeShawn turned to him and clenched his fist.

  "Our own nation. That's what I’m talking about. Our own black nation. And me as the
president. That's what they tell me. They want me as president, brother, now how about that? Can you picture your big brother as president?"

  "So, you want to take over the entire country?" Tyler asked, surprised.

  DeShawn shook his head. "Not all of it. Just half. Then we'll build a wall. White people on one side, blacks on the other. That's how to end all this crap, man. It's the only way to end it."

  Chapter 52

  They were taken to a house not far from the mayor's office. It was one of the few that were still standing completely intact, the Hunter had told them. They had started the rebuilding of the city, slowly. But the war was costing them a lot of money, manpower, and lives, so it would take a long while before people would have electricity and roofs over their heads again. So, they had to do with what they had. People lived in apartments missing entire walls, just putting up sheets to cover for the wind and rain. Some didn't even care to cover, and Jetta could look right into their homes. A lady was sweeping the floors in the darkness, letting the dust and dirt fall over the edge of her apartment down onto the street below.

  The soldier left them by the door and they walked inside. The smell of food met them as they entered. Shango stopped, sniffed the air, then laughed.

  "Cornmeal porridge with okra, mangoes, and rooster," he said. "Finally, a proper meal."

  Jetta and Tyler looked at one another, not knowing what the drunken man was talking about. He looked at them, and then laughed.

  "She's here."

  Tyler's lips mouthed Who's here? And Jetta shrugged. Yet they followed Shango into the kitchen where the smell of food grew stronger. In there, they found a woman. A tall strong black woman wearing a skirt made up of nine different colored pieces of cloth. Her movements when cooking were abrupt and violent, causing her skirt to fly when she moved; every now and then, she moved so fast she twirled in the air, reminding Jetta of a small tornado. Around her very dark black neck she wore a necklace made from alternating dark red and brown beads with black and white dots on them.